The Abandoned Chevalier
by Lollipop456
Summary: AU, I suppose. KarlxOC. This is the life story of Karl Fei-Ong, one of Diva's chevaliers. From his birth, to his first love, and to the moment where he gave in to Diva. R&R please.
1. Chapter 1

_March 4th, 1894-Hanoi, Vietnam_

Lam Quach laid in bed with beads of sweat running down her face. She caught a brief glimpse of the blood that stained her nightgown, but paid no mind to it. All that mattered to her was that she had just given birth to a son.

"Here is the child, Ms. Quach." The midwife handed Lam her newborn son.

"Is he healthy?" Lam asked.

"He is perfect. I've seen many children born, and he is one of the blessed few to be born healthy." The midwife said.

The door opened slightly, and Lam could see her father gesturing for the midwife. After wiping away the sweat from Lam's brow, the midwife stepped into the hallway, leaving the door halfway open.

"A boy? Do I have a grandson?" Mr. Quach asked.

"Yes, you do. Both he and your daughter are well." The midwife said.

Mr. Quach sighed. "Lam should not have loved someone as foolish as that boy, Karl. His father was French; it's no wonder that he find love with someone else and abandoned her. If he had only known of her wealth, perhaps he would have stayed."

"Do you mean to say, Mr. Quach, that he seduced her and-"

"Once he had received word of Lam's pregnancy, that damned Fei-Ong went to France with his father, with a fiancee in tow."

"How dreadful! That poor girl...She must be heartbroken." The midwife said.

Lam smiled and looked down at her baby boy. "Do not listen to them. I have no ill feelings towards your father. I know that he would have loved you, just as much as I do. Besides, he has given me you, and I think that I owe him for giving me such a gift."

Lam kissed the top of her son's head and pulled him close to her chest. "Karl Fei-Ong. That shall be your name, love. That shall be your name."


	2. Chapter 2

_August 12th, 1899-Hanoi, Vietnam_

Five-year-old Karl laid on the parlor floor painting a picture, while Lam played the piano. After finishing his picture, Karl walked over to Lam and held up his latest creation.

"Look, Mama! It's a picture of you!" Karl announced proudly.

Lam smiled and stopped playing. She took the picture from Karl and observed it, still wearing a smile the entire time.

"It's beautiful, my dear. You've a great talent." Lam placed the picture on top of the piano and then kissed Karl on the cheek.

"I painted a picture of Grandfather."

"You should show him then."

Karl's smile disappeared and he went to the sofa. He sat on it and looked towards the floor, shaking his head.

"Why not, Karl?" Lam asked.

"Grandfather doesn't like my paintings, because he doesn't like me."

Lam stood and sat next to Karl. "That's not true, darling. Your Grandfather loves you very, very much."

"He calls me mean names, Mama. He doesn't hug me or doesn't tuck me in."

Lam sighed and stroked Karl's black hair. "Your Grandfather is not a man of affection. While he may not show that he loves, he truly does. I know that he will love your painting, Karl."

Karl sighed and picked the painting of his grandfather from off the floor. Slowly, but surely, he made his ways down the halls of the house and entered his Grandfather's study.

"Grandfather?" Karl called out.

"Come in, boy." Mr. Quach said.

Karl saw his Grandfather sitting in a chair by the fireplace, his cane hanging over his arm. Letting out a deep breath, Karl approached the chair and reluctantly held up his painting.

"I painted a picture of you, Grandfather." Karl said, his voice quieter than usual.

Mr. Quach looked down at Karl and took the painting from his hands. He smiled slightly, and Karl thought that perhaps his mother had been right.

"You spend far too much time painting; such a waste when you've no talent."

Mr. Quach tore the painting into pieces and tossed it into the fire. Karl felt hot tears run down his face as he watched his painting turn to ashes.

"Cry if you must. It seems to be your only ability."

Karl ran out of the study in tears, and went upstairs to his room. Lam was coming out of the parlor when she heard the door slam to Karl's bedroom. She went into the study and approached her father's chair.

"Have you upset Karl?" Lam asked.

"He had come to show me a picture. I did what I thought to be best, and threw it in the fire."

"You burned the picture? It was meant to please you."

Mr. Quach turned to his daughter. "Then it was you? Why must you constantly parade him around my house?"

"He loves you, Papa. He wants nothing but your love."

"Then why not give him my name? Why name him after the man who left you and never bothered to see your son?"

"For many years, I hoped to be a mother. I cried my tears after Karl had fled to France,but the moment that I saw what he had given me, I could not feel more grateful. He gave me my son, and I've no other way to show my gratitude."

"Be grateful then, Lam, but never expect me to accept Karl as my grandson. He is his father's son, and a reminder of our ruined reputation."

"Reputation? That's why then, you've not accepted my son? Because of the sins of his father?"

Lam left the study in tears, and Mr. Quach rolled his eyes after she had left.

"Such dramatics." Mr. Quach muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

_December 12th, 1906- Hanoi, Vietnam_

12-year-old Karl stood outside of his grandfather's bedroom. His mother was currently with him and told Karl to wait in the hall until she sent for him. Despite knowing that his Grandfather hated him, Karl was saddened that he was currently on his deathbed and would still miss him terribly, what hurt him the most was that he never got to make his Grandfather proud.

Lam stepped into the hallway, wiping away her tears and trying her best to give a smile for Karl.

"He wants to see you now, darling." Lam said.

Karl nodded and stepped into his Grandfather's bedroom. He approached his bed and then sat in a chair quietly; it didn't take long for the weak Mr. Quach to turn his head towards his grandson.

"Karl, I did not figure you would come to see me." Mr. Quach said, although his voice was barely audible.

Karl gave a soft smile. "I did not want you to be alone."

Mr. Quach scoffed. "Alone? I never had the urge to be in someone else's company. Not even now."

Karl squared his shoulders. "No matter if you hate me, Grandfather, I still love you. I don't want you to die alone!"

Karl gasped, shocked by own his outburst. He looked down at his feet and turned his head away from his Grandfather.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

Mr. Quach sighed. "There's no point in hiding the truth, boy. I know that I'm dying and I've accepted it. Each hour, my body grows weaker and my breathing has almost ceased on more than one occasion."

Karl felt tears well up in his eyes as he finally looked back towards his Grandfather. "I don't want you to die, Grandfather. I know you hate me and I don't care, I just want you to live with me and Mama. We need you."

Mr. Quach began coughing and blood drizzled down his lips. "You don't need me, and your mother certainly does not need me. She was abanonded by your damnable father and still was able to raise you to be a good boy."

Karl's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

Mr. Quach was barely breathing at this point and his skin was becoming pale. "I respect you, Karl."

With those words, Mr. Quach closed his eyes and his hand dropped to the side of the bed. Karl threw himself on his Grandfather's body and began to sob openly; Lam had obviously heard him and came into the room. She was able to pull Karl off her father and to check his pulse.

"Is he dead, Mama? Is Grandfather dead?" Karl asked.

Lam turned to Karl, tears forming in her eyes and her bottom lip trembling. "He's at peace, darling."

Karl hugged Lam tightly and continued to cry. He was going to miss his Grandfather, and now knowing that he at least had his grandfather's respect, did little to ease his pain.

The funeral was held at a large cathedral, and Karl had never seen so many people in his life. He didn't even know that his Grandfather had so many friends, but at least 80 people alone attended the funeral. He also couldn't help but notice that a man was staring at him the entire time and Karl was beginning to wonder if he had something on his face or if he had done something to upset the stranger.

After the burial at a large cemetery close to the cathedral, Karl was kneeling quietly at his grandfather's grave and placed a red rose on-top of the mound. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the strange man approaching his mother.

"What a charming boy you have, Miss Quach." The stranger said.

Lam turned to stranger, slightly surprised. "Oh, thank you. He's my whole world, I don't know what I'd do if something were to happen to him. Especially now that my father has..." Lam trailed off and looked down at her feet.

"That is understandable. Your father was a great man, Miss Quach, even if he chose not to show his feelings. It may please you to know that he spoke very highly of your son Karl."

Lam looked back up, a look of confusion written on her face. "How did you know my father, sir?"

The stranger smiled. "My name is Peter Rothschild. Your father, while on business in Germany, had become my acquaintance. He told me how his grandson was a very good artist, and an excellent student who received very astounding grades."

"Well yes, he is a good student and a talented artist. However, I still don't understand why we're discussing my son. "

"Well you see, Miss Quach, I own an established boarding school in Frankfurt. It's a private establishment and has only young, male students like your son. With your permission, I wish to allow Karl to return to Germany with me and become a student at my school." Mr. Rothschild explained.

"A student? A boarding school?" Lam said, hardly able to comprehend what Mr. Rothschild had said.

"I know this may come as a shock, and I find no pleasure in asking at a time like this. Nonetheless, you've been blessed with a brilliant son who has astounding potential. I ask you to consider what doors shall be opened for Karl with this opportunity."

Lam turned towards Karl, who was still kneeling at her father's grave. "I know that my son has potential, Mr. Rothschild. I certainly would not want to deny him any opportunity." She turned back to Mr. Rothschild. "Will he have to leave soon?"

"My boat leaves tonight. Another one will not arrive for a week, and I must return Frankfurt as soon as possible."

Lam nodded. "I understand. I will pack his belongings when I arrive home."

Mr. Rothschild laid a hand on Lam's shoulder. "You may visit him whenever you choose, because I never have any intentions of keeping my students away from their parents. I promise that this is a good thing for Karl. I will be at the docks at the six o'clock, but I do wish that you had more time."

Mr. Rothschild bowed and left the cemetery. It didn't take long for Karl to run up to his mother and hug her.

"What did that strange man want, Mama?" Karl asked.

"He-He wishes to take you to Germany, Karl. Mr. Rothschild owns a school in Frankfurt and he wants to see you as his student."

"Germany? It seems so far away, Mama. I could see it on a globe in Grandfather's study, and it's on a separate continent."

"I wish that it weren't so far, darling, but I know well that this is a fantastic opportunity."

Karl looked towards his grandfather's grave. "All right, Mama. All right."


	4. Chapter 4

When Lam and Karl arrived at the docks, it was nighttime but Mr. Rothschild was waiting patiently.

"I am sorry that we're late, Mr. Rothschild." Lam said.

"It's all right, Mrs. Quach. I'll take Karl's baggage aboard and let you two say goodbye."

Lam nodded and handed Karl's suitcase to Mr. Rothschild who carried it onto the ship. Lam got onto her knees and adjusted the collar of Karl's coat.

"You must mind Mr. Rothschild, darling. Do everything he says and give him no trouble."

"Yes, Mama."

Lam took Karl's hands. "Karl, it's going to be difficult at first, but this is a great chance for you. You have so much potential, and Mr. Rothschild will help you to see that."

Karl nodded, his eyes welling with tears. "Good-"

"Karl, we will see each other again soon. There is no need to say goodbye."

Lam kissed Karl's cheek and then pointed him in the direction to go. Karl rushed to board the ship and found Mr. Rothschild waiting for him on deck.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Mr. Rothschild asked.

"Yes, Mr. Rothschild. I-I've never left my mother before or Vietnam."

The two suddenly shifted as the ship left the dock and was steered out into the ocean. Karl rushed to the bow of the ship and the only thing he was able to see was a tiny dot. A dot that cared for him and did whatever possible to make sure he was happy.

"Goodbye, Mama."

The journey took nine days, enduring tossing seas and a quick repair at a nearby port. It was early in the morning when the ship finally arrived in Frankfurt. Though Karl was half-asleep, Mr. Rothschild woke him and took him to deck so that he was able to see his first glimpse of Frankfurt.

"Wow, it's wonderful." Karl said.

"Once and awhile, I will take the boys to see the sights."

"Do you think I will make friends?"

Mr. Rothschild looked down at Karl. "What was that, Karl?"

"Will I make friends?"

Mr. Rothschild shrugged. "Well, my students are friendly. Always eager to meet new people. There's one boy who I feel you'll get along with. He's only been with us for two weeks, and is still having trouble adjusting. His name is Solomon and he came from Boston."

When Mr. Rothschild and Karl were able to leave the ship, they took a coach to the school. It was large, most likely eight stories, and the front of the building was lined with rose bushes. This excited Karl more than anything; he thought roses were the most beautiful things in the world! It fascinated him that something so simple could be so beautiful.

As the two made their way inside, a frail, older gentleman came up to them and removed their coats. This made Karl feel at home, since he to had a butler.

"I'll show you to your quarters."

Mr. Rothschild laid a hand on Karl's shoulder and directed him up the stairs and down a long hallway that had many doors.

"What are these rooms?" Karl asked.

"These rooms are where the other students are staying, Karl. They each have their own room, that's why there are so many. We have seventy-one pupils."

"Seventy-one?"

Mr. Rothschild grinned and looked down at Karl. "Well, seventy-two."

As Mr. Rothschild and Karl continued down the hall, a young boy with blond hair and dressed in his school uniform, came running towards them; bumping right into Mr. Rothschild.

"Solomon, what is going on?"

Solomon looked up at Mr. Rothschild and frowned. "I'm sorry, sir. Sterling is after me again. He said that I stole his pocket watch."

"Did you?"

"Of course not, sir. I'm no thief."

Mr. Rothschild shared a stern look with his young student. "Then why is one hand closed, and another is open?"

Solomon suddenly seemed nervous. Mr. Rothschild extended his hand and Solomon eventually handed him the gold pocket watch.

Mr. Rothschild sighed. "Solomon, I realize that you're new still. You're a very wealthy young man, and your parents left you here so that you could recieve an education and so that I was able to help you break these terrible habits. If you keep stealing, I'll eventually lose my patience and exspell you."

"I understand, sir." Solomon finally noticed Karl, who ducked behind Mr. Rothschild. "Who is this?"

"Solomon, this is Karl Fei-Ong. He's the newest student here, and I expect everyone to make him feel welcomed."

Solomon nodded and gave Karl a friendly smile. "Hello, Karl. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Vietnam."

"That's amazing! We have just begun to learn about Vietnam during our history lessons haven't we, sir?"

"We have, Solomon."

"I hear that you can't point with your finger in Vietnam, only with your hand. That sounds pretty silly."

"Solomon!" Mr. Rothschild laid a hand on Karl's shoulder. "It is merely a custom in his country. I'm sure even Bostonians have customs, don't you?"

Solomon shrugged and turned a crimson color. "Perhaps."

"Then is it right to make fun of Karl's customs?"

"No, sir. I apologize, Mr. Fei-Ong."

Karl smiled lightly. "It's all right."

"Now Solomon, while I return this watch, may you please show Karl to his room? It is the one next to yours, on the right."

Solomon bowed. "Yes, sir."

Karl followed Solomon down the hall. Neither of them spoke, each were still uncomfortable in the others presence.

"Do you live with your parents?" Solomon asked.

"When Mama became pregnant, Papa returned to France and didn't come back."

Solomon looked over his shoulder. "So then, you're also French?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't have to call me that. My name is Solomon. If we're going to be friends, then we mustn't be so formal."

"Friends?"

"Of course friends. Our rooms are next to each other, we are the same age, and relatively new to the academy. Is there a reason why we shouldn't be?"

"I've never had a friend before." Karl murmured.

Solomon froze in his tracks and turned to face Karl. "Well then, I'm honored."


	5. Chapter 5

_June 9th, 1908-Frankfurt, Germany_

For the next two years, Karl exceeded well in his studies at the school and made many new friends, although he considered Solomon to be his closest friend. It wasn't until the week after his fourteenth birthday, that Karl noticed something different. The letters from his mother were becoming fewer and fewer. By the end of May they had stopped altogether, but Karl thought nothing of it. He was fourteen, and his mother probably thought he was old enough to stop receiving letters constantly.

One day, Karl and Solomon were reading in the school's garden, when Karl spotted an automobile stopping at the gate and a tall, young man stepping out of it.

"Solomon, do you know who that is?" Karl asked.

Solomon looked up and gave a smile. "That's Mr. Amshel. He comes to the school every two years to take a boy with him to his home in France."

"Why?"

Solomon shrugged his shoulders. "There's lots of rumors. Some say he has a school that is better than the Rothschild Academy, others say he needs a companion for a relative of his, and then of course some believe the boys are used for...more intimate purposes."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Why should it? Mr. Amshel only picks the younger ones to go with him, and if Mr. Rothschild trusts him, then I see no reason why I shouldn't."

Before Karl could respond, he heard his name being called by Rothschild. He gathered up his books and ran inside where Rothschild was waiting for him.

"Come with me. There is someone here to see you."

Karl followed Rothschild to his office and was surprised to see the butler of the Quach household, Thuan Vien, sitting and waiting for them.

"Thuan!"

Karl ran up to the older gentleman and hugged him. "I'm so glad to see you. What brings you here to Frankfurt? How is mother?"

"Master Karl, that is why I came here."

Karl's smile faded. "What's happened? Is mother all right?"

"I am sure you noticed that you've not been receiving letters from her lately."

"S-She thinks I'm too old for letters. That's all."

Thuan shook his head. "No, Master Karl, that isn't why she stopped writing. For the past year, she has been battling consumption. She didn't want you to know, that's why she never mentioned her illness in her letters. For the past few months, she was becoming weaker and far too sick to write to you, and two days ago she closed her eyes to sleep and then..."

Thuan didn't need to say anymore, his face told Karl the rest. In a second, Karl felt the blood drain from his face and his heart leapt to his throat. Dropping to his knees, he began to sob.


End file.
